


Hauntings

by andrewiel



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, fuck buddies, or so they think....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 15:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17004042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewiel/pseuds/andrewiel
Summary: Andrew meets Neil at Eden's one night, where they begin a not-relationship. But that's not how it ends.(Mitz requested Andreil meeting at Eden's as grownups and becoming fuck buddies)





	Hauntings

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second fundraiser fic, requested by the lovely Mitz! She asked for my take on Andreil being fuck buddies, and of course I had to write it as them being hoplessly in luv with each other.
> 
> We're raising funds for Mr. Shakedown, my lil baby disabled kitty. While we've met the goal, if you want to read more about Mr. Shakedown and his campaign, visit my tumblr! I'm writing fics to help raise awareness and also say thank you to everyone who helped me and my baby <3  
>   
> [Read more on Tumblr about Mr. Shakedown's campaign ❤️](http://jostenminyard.tumblr.com/post/180990893806/click-here-to-support-mr-shakedowns-veterinary)
> 
> So, sorry if this is shit, I wrote it in between studying. I'll finish the rest of the prompts after finals and my birthday!

It took five nights to make Neil his.

On the first night, Andrew couldn’t take his eyes off of him; for even in a crowded club, with an array of bodies and colours, Neil stood out. He didn’t need wild moves on the dance floor, didn’t need flashy clothing, for everything about his face and demeanour demanded attention, and Andrew was helpless to give it to him.

From their table, Andrew could see Neil approaching the bar, and though they still had a full round of shots, Andrew stood abruptly to get to him. Roland looked at him in confusion for only a brief moment, before acknowledgement settled behind his blue eyes. He winked, turned to Neil and asked, “Neil, have you met Andrew? He and his family are fan-favourite regulars of ours.”

Andrew side-eyed the man, before giving Neil his full attention.

“No, I don’t think I have,” Neil said, sipping on his bottle of water. “I’m Neil.”

“Andrew,” Andrew said, for he hadn’t the slightest idea of what else to say.

He could see Roland smirking from the corner of his eye, and would’ve given him the finger if Neil’s even-bluer eyes weren’t solely on him.

Neil smiled, and Andrew stored the image away for later, when he could analyze that smile, for it wasn’t one he was used to receiving.

“Do you dance?” Neil asked, indicating towards the dance floor with a jerk of his head.

“No,” Andrew answered, truthfully, because he wasn’t about to contort himself for this stranger. “But you do. You’re good.”

A slight tinge of red coloured Neil’s cheeks. He nodded, took another sip of water, then said, “Well, thank you for the review.”

Before Andrew could come up with any sort of comeback, Neil thanked Roland, nodded at Andrew again, and left.

Andrew didn’t see him for the rest of the night.

-

It was like that the next Friday night.

Andrew was more on guard than before, choosing a table closer to the dance floor, reasoning that it would be easier to see Aaron and Nicky that way, and not because of Neil.

Of course, Neil wasn’t able to hide. Not a boy like that.

Andrew savoured every glimpse while he warred with himself about not being able to be like that. Like Neil, or Nicky, or his own fucking brother; able to dance, not care, and handle all the eyes on him.

He was at the bar, waiting on Roland to finish another round of drinks, when someone said from behind him, “You didn’t tell me you had a brother.”

Andrew looked over his shoulder, relieved and suddenly anxious to see Neil. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Neil said with a smirk, coming up closer and turning around, his back to the bar and his eyes on Andrew. “Nearly got my face punched in, thinking he was you.”

Andrew looked over at their table, to where Aaron was now sitting, arms folded and face cross.

“Aaron prides himself on his heterosexuality,” Andrew finally said, and was rewarded with a bright laugh from Neil.

“Glad I know that now,” Neil said, his smile this time more sly. “Besides, I should’ve known it wasn’t you. He’s taller.”

Andrew had wheeled around on his heels, suddenly closer to Neil than he would’ve allowed himself if he weren’t angry. “He is n-”

Neil laughed again, head thrown back, the expanse of his throat on full display. “Relax, I’m just kidding.”

“You’re hilarious,” Andrew said dryly, and risked reaching over and poking Neil in the cheek. He could feel Neil’s smile form underneath his fingertip, and swore on his life that he would touch more of him, one day, if Neil let him.

Neil looked at him with those bright blue eyes of his, smiled, and left, and Andrew didn’t expect to see him again that night.

-

The third night was better.

The third night, Neil stayed.

It was just him and Kevin left, Nicky and Aaron both off in the crowd, when Neil approached him.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, pointing at the empty stool beside Andrew.

Andrew glanced at the seat and then Neil before grunting in response, hating his heartbeat for increasing in sound when Neil took the seat. He smelled of sweat and cologne, and his dark, tousled hair was pushed back. He had been dancing with two guys, Andrew had seen. The jealousy still sat in his body, even then, only lessening the closer Neil leaned into him.

They talked.

And Neil didn’t leave.

In those hours, Andrew moved closer, and Neil let him, and Neil moved closer, and Andrew let him.

Until their thighs were pressed together, and Neil’s hand was on Andrew’s thigh, and Andrew’s arm was woven around Neil’s waist, and these kind of things demanded explanations, but Andrew feared if he tried too hard to solve it, it would disappear.

At last call, Andrew went back to the bar for one last round of drinks, leaving Neil with his confused cousin, annoyed brother and a drunken Kevin.

But, as he had feared, when he went back, Neil was gone.

-

“So, you and Neil . . ?” Roland asked the next week, as a disinterested Andrew leaned against the counter. “Are you . . .”

“No,” Andrew said bluntly, taking the free shot Roland had laid out for him.

“Okay, whatever you say. It’s just, Neil’s been coming in for a while now, and I haven’t seen him . . . well, whatever it is you two do, he’s never done it with anyone else. I think he likes you.”

Andrew mulled that over, trying his best to not let it go to his head. “If that were true, he wouldn’t disappear every night, would he?”

“That’s just Neil for you.”

“I’m not interested in a ghost.”

Roland laughed as he poured a drink into a glass. “But aren’t you? Think about it; a guy who asks no questions and doesn’t want to stay the night? Isn’t that your idea of heaven?”

No, was the obvious answer, as that was what Andrew could tolerate with Roland.

It wasn’t what he wanted, though.

It’s just what he could have.

“Sure,” Andrew said, paid the man, and took his drinks.

Neil didn’t show up until much later. He took the seat Andrew saved for him, accepted the sealed bottle of water, winked at Aaron, which prompted Aaron to storm away from the table in a huff, and soon settled in beside Andrew, the way he had last week.

Andrew wanted to ask him to stay, for the feeling of Neil beside him and the feeling of his absence was so pointed that Andrew feared it.

He couldn’t explain it. He didn’t want to.

“Neil, come and dance with us?” Nicky asked after coming back to the table for another shot. “Please?”

Andrew stilled, as Neil looked from Nicky to Andrew and back to the dance floor. “Uh, I’m not really in the mood for dancing. Maybe in a bit?”

Andrew released his breath, lungs aching from holding it, while Nicky whined and pouted but ultimately left him alone.

Neil squeezed Andrew’s shoulder and gave him a soft smile, one that looked so unlike the others Andrew had stored away. This one had intent, purpose, was curious while also knowing.

Andrew bit his own lip to keep from kissing his.

“Not in the mood?” Andrew repeated, once Neil was back in his arms.

“Dancing isn’t as fun without a partner,” Neil said, poking his tongue out and laughing when Andrew pinched his thigh.

“Not in a million years.”

“I know,” Neil said, all humour suddenly gone from his voice. “Which is why I haven’t asked.”

Andrew stilled once again, hating how taken back he always was when it came to Neil, always so full of twists and turns that Andrew could easily get lost in.

That night, Neil wasn’t able to flee. Andrew sat by his side until the very end of night.

“Next week?” Andrew asked as they began to clear the club. He wasn’t sure what he was asking, when it was a given Neil would be there, and that they would see each other.

“Next week,” Neil still answered, and outside, in the cold of night, surrounded by the sound of cars and drunken people, Neil leaned in to kiss Andrew’s cheek.

Stuck in a stupor, Andrew froze, and missed the squeeze Neil gave to his shoulder, and thus missed the way Neil disappeared.

-

Next week couldn’t come soon enough, but then suddenly, it was there.

Andrew is half standing, half sitting in his seat, always leaning out to look and see for any sign of Neil. _Next week_ had felt like a promise and an offer, something Andrew could say yes to, something that Andrew could ask.

His cheek still rings with the feel of Neil’s lips.

His memory plays visions of Neil, the way he looks when he laughs and smiles, how lithe and tight his body is compared to Andrew’s, how easily they fit together, how wrongly right it all feels.

Stuck in his memories, when he sees Neil, it takes a moment to register that it’s him. An entire week of wishing, hoping, replaying and imagining, and Andrew is on his feet in seconds to get to him, to close that wait of a week.

Neil is by the bar, talking to another patron beside him. Andrew doesn’t care, sliding into the narrow space between them, his back to the stranger and his eyes finally on Neil.

“Excuse me, we were -”

Andrew holds his finger up to the man, grateful when he hears Roland’s voice from behind him, asking the man what he wants in order to distract him.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Neil says, teasingly, as his fingers fiddle with the cap of his water bottle.

“Fuck nice,” Andrew says, and tucks his own fingers into Neil’s belt loop to tug him closer.

Neil laughs, and places his free hand on Andrew’s arm. “Calm down. I’m here now.”

Andrew pulls again, until they’re nearly chest to chest.

“Let me buy you a drink?”

Neil holds up his water bottle and shakes his head. “I don’t drink.”

Having known that, and known that Neil would say that, Andrew leans in until his lips are by Neil’s ear, where no one else can hear him, and says, “Then I’ll cut to the chase; I want to suck you off. Let me?”

Neil’s body freezes, and this close Andrew can hear his throat working as he swallows.

His breath comes out smaller, huffed against Andrew’s face.

“Yes,” Neil finally says, and his sudden anxiousness is so unlike him, but at the same time exactly like him. Another piece to this mystery that Andrew is never one step closer to solving.

Andrew itches for a shot, but feels dizzy enough already to know he’s better off without it. He doesn’t need the buzz, not when Neil’s body is completely pressed to his now, urgency moving between them.

Andrew keeps his fingers hooked through Neil’s belt loop as he guides him away from the bar, down the hall and past the bathrooms and kitchen, towards the coveted storage room that he’s spent many nights in on his knees.

He opens the door for Neil, but Neil takes his hand and guides him in instead. The lighting is dim inside the small room, the bulb burning out slowly but surely. Not that Andrew minds; he can see Neil in his entirety, and he doesn’t mind if Neil can’t quite see him.

Andrew fears very little, but being suddenly alone with Neil, away from the noise and the people and the stares, he feels on edge. Not because of Neil, no, because he decided from the second night that Neil wasn’t to be feared.

It’s likely due to Neil’s hands in his, and Neil’s body in front of him, the possibilities as real as the air they’re breathing, and the fact that it will all be over and gone soon, like Neil usually is.

“Andrew?” Neil asks, bringing Andrew back to now. “You said something about wanting to . . .”

“Yeah,” Andrew says, blinking away the haze, and moves all at once to push Neil into the nearest wall, holding him hard by the hips. “Can I kiss you?”

Neil nods, already tilting his chin down so Andrew has perfect access to his mouth. Neil’s hands go into his hair at the same moment their lips meet, and while Andrew wishes they could go slow, he needs to take it all in, as much as he can, while he can.

He deepens the kiss, pushing into Neil’s mouth, the taste of his tongue and chapstick almost sweet. Neil moans, so easy, the sound all melted and smooth, his hands fisting tight in Andrew’s hair.

While they kiss, Andrew moves a hand between their bodies, starting at the button to Neil’s jeans and moving down, down, and finding the bulge of his cock already hardening. Neil gasps as Andrew touches him, outlining the shape as best he can, but Andrew kisses him through it.

Once Neil is thrusting into his hand, jerking and trembling from the stimulation, Andrew finally breaks their kiss and drops to his knees.

His hands threaten to shake as he undoes Neil’s zipper, but he has to be steel.

Then he makes the mistake of looking up at Neil’s expecting expression, soft around the edges despite the sharp cut of his jaw and chin. Neil smiles, reaching down to pet through Andrew’s hair, and lets out a shaky exhale.

Andrew didn’t want a ghost, but a ghost could not be this; warm under his hands as they share the same breath, shaking from nerves and excitement, smiling that smile that puts all of Andrew’s searching to rest.

He pushes Neil back with a hand to his hip until he hits the wall again, the threads his fingers through his belt loops and pulls his jeans down his thighs, his underwear catching with it.

Neil’s cock springs out, half-hard and flushed at the tip. Neil looks away as Andrew looks on, his mouth starting to water and his pulse accelerating at the thought - the fact - that he gets to have him.

Hands on Neil’s hips, to ground Neil but also to ground himself, Andrew starts by suckling at the tip of Neil’s cock, until it fully hardens on his tongue, and then he swallows him - no hesitance or patience, because when you want something this _bad_ there is no room for such things.

“Oh, f-fuck -” Neil curses, his head hitting the wall as his hands tighten in Andrew’s hair. “Oh, shit!”

Andrew hadn’t expected Neil to be so mouthy during sex, but he should have. It fuels him, sending fire down his spine, heat low in his belly, his jaw relaxing so he can take more of Neil, as much as he can.

Outside the club’s music beats against the door, but inside they’re safe. Just the two of them. Neil could leave, if he wanted, if he wished, but here he stays, under Andrew’s hands and his kiss.

But, despite his urgency, to taste and take and give, Andrew begins to slow, switching from his mouth to his hand just so he can take in Neil’s face as he borders on the edges of his orgasm. He commits it all to memory, in case Neil does decide to leave, in case Neil disappears again.

For later, when he has to finish himself off.

“Y-you’re so -” Neil babbles, ripping his hands from Andrew’s hair to place them against the wall, steadying himself. “I want -”

“What?” Andrew asks, holding the base of Neil’s cock with one hand as he licks a line down the rest. “What do you want?”

Neil closes his eyes and jerks his hips forward, letting out a strangled moan. “M-more -”

Andrew smirks, and gives the man what he asks for, taking him down his throat again and swallowing. His hands slowly move from Neil’s hips to his ass, pushing on him, allowing him in deeper, while he feels the muscles of his backside clench and relax and tighten and -

Neil comes with a loud gasp, mouthy boy that he is, shaking under Andrew’s hands as he stutters forward. Andrew doesn’t let him go, keeping himself on Neil and around Neil, barely able to taste Neil with how fast he has to swallow it to keep from spilling out of his mouth.

Once done, Neil crumples, sliding down the wall with his pants still undone, knees wobbling until he’s safe on the floor.

“Shit,” he swears, pushing back his sweat-damp hair. “Andrew, that was -” And before Andrew can respond, Neil hauls Andrew forward by the back of his neck until they’re kissing again, with Andrew nestled between Neil’s bent legs.

It’s an awkward position, hurting his spine and knees, but Neil wants more, and Andrew is helpless to give it to him.

Arousal surges between Andrew’s legs, but he focuses on meeting all of Neil’s kisses and soothing Neil’s fast-beating heart by calmly petting his hair back.

It isn’t ever like this. Andrew’s been in this exact storage room, in this exact spot, but it’s never been with Neil.

But if Neil wants to stay, Andrew wants to, too.

As long as he doesn’t disappear.

-

He isn’t sure what the protocol is, when you suck a guy off in the storage room of a night club before not seeing him for an entire week. Or really, he wonders what happens after that week is over, when suddenly that guy is standing in front of you again, his smile all sly and small and entirely for Andrew, as if he’s replaying that moment on the storage room floor, when they had kissed and kissed and kissed until Roland had to beat on the door, declaring last call for the night.

Andrew wants to pull him away from the table and the crowd and twine their hands together and press their bodies closer and talk to him where no one else can hear, and kiss him where no one else can see.

But, as luck would have it, Andrew was born with Nicky as his cousin, and so after they settle at their table and finish a round of shots, Nicky stands and holds his hand out for Neil, a flirtatious grin on his face.

“I was promised a dance.”

Neil laughs, and puts his hand into Nicky’s. “I don’t remember promising,” he says warily, standing to his feet. “But if it’ll make you stop asking, then . . .”

Nicky lets out a cheer and pulls Neil under his arm, their height difference obnoxious. The two of them seep into the growing crowd of people, only the top of Nicky’s head visible from the table.

Andrew glares at the pair, his fingers anxiously tapping against the rim of his glass.

“I’m going to kill your cousin,” Andrew says to Aaron, who sits across from him, working his way through another drink.

“He’s your cousin, too,” Aaron points out, sounding nearly as annoyed as Andrew feels.

“Not anymore.”

“Alright, drama queen,” Aaron sighs. “They’ll be back soon. You know, if you really wanted to dance with him, you should just ask. It’s not like . . .”

Whatever Aaron had said after that, Andrew tuned it out in favour of downing two shots in a row, mixed with the slightest bit of cracker dust.

It takes a few minutes for the alcohol to hit him, slow as ever. It settles warm in his stomach, making everything feel slow, amping up the sound of the bass. It makes time stretch on forever, so long that Andrew stares at the empty stool beside him and realizes Neil isn’t where he should be - which is to say, right next to Andrew.

He doesn’t realize he’s on his feet and in the crowd until someone bumps into him, at first apologizing and then trying to initiate a dance. Andrew ignores him and continues, each person he passes like a street sign, this whole floor a map that leads to Neil.

Though Nicky is the taller of the pair, Neil is who Andrew sees first; his smile is bright underneath the neon lights, his eyes glittering from the reflection of it all. It’s Nicky who sees Andrew first, though, his grin growing as he sways with Neil before grabbing onto Neil’s hips and turning him around.

Neil does a double take, before he says Andrew’s name in a way it’s never been said before - with want - and launches himself forward until Andrew’s arms are the ones around his waist. Neil’s nose brushes his, as Neil’s eyes lock onto his, and though it’s a large map with several streets, this close it’s truly only them.

So that’s what Andrew focuses on; not the people around them, or the heavy music, or the blinding lights.

Andrew doesn’t notice they’ve drifted to the edge of the dance floor until he takes a step back and doesn’t bump into another body. He looks behind him first, before turning back to face Neil and Neil’s suddenly-impish grin, wicked in its knowingness.

Andrew knows exactly what he means with that grin, and takes another step back, and another, until they’re past the tables and the bar and the bathroom and the kitchen once again, and then safe behind a closed door.

All Andrew can hear after that is the sound of Neil’s breathing, his excited gasps and low moans. He pins Neil’s hands high above his head and hikes up his shirt, exploring the expanse of his toned stomach and his darkened nipples, taking each into his mouth and biting gently. His knee rubs up and down Neil’s thigh, avoiding his cock until Neil is thrusting forward with it, trying his best to find any sort of friction against Andrew.

And they’re a mess, but they make sense.

In the end, he has Neil holding on desperately to the side of a shelf, his pants around his ankles and his cock in Andrew’s throat, Andrew’s name an endless phrase in his mouth. Out of fear of Neil leaving without a trace, he leaves his mark; along Neil’s thighs, on each hip bone, a trail up from his navel to his throat.

He lets Neil leave one on him, against his neck, right where Andrew can press on it and feel it all, all over again.

So wrapped up in him, unwilling to let this end, Andrew finishes himself off while he works on Neil. Only so he’s not aching when Neil leaves.

He whimpers through his orgasm, the noise muffled by Neil’s cock still in his mouth, thankfully, but still, Neil notices, and touches at Andrew’s cheek, wiping away the sweat at his temple.

When Neil comes, he cries, Andrew’s name all twisted on his tongue. His hands reach out to grab Andrew’s shoulders, and before Andrew can even swallow he’s pulled up to Neil’s level, where Neil wraps both arms around Andrew’s neck, clinging to Andrew like _Neil’s_ the one afraid here, of something so temporary.

Andrew nearly asks him to come home with him.

But if Neil says no, or if Neil were to leave, Andrew isn’t sure it’s something he could handle. Not yet.

Neil strokes his fingers through Andrew’s hair, slow and gentle, until Andrew’s pulse matches the movements. He smiles, warm and pleased, and Andrew thinks back to the night he decided to write Neil off as safe, and how he might’ve been wrong.

Neil might be the most dangerous thing to happen to him, a haunting that can’t be stopped.

-

It was bound to happen eventually.

An away game that’s too far to get back in time.

Coach booked their flight out of Houston for early Saturday morning, the bastard. Andrew had barely twitched as their itinerary was handed out at practice on Wednesday, trying to not let it show how much it bothered him.

Broke him.

He doesn’t have Neil’s number. He doesn’t even have his last name. Neil isn’t just a ghost - he’s an unmarked grave.

Andrew regrets never asking, and hates his inane concern of being rejected, for if he had just asked, he could tell Neil that he won’t be there on Friday. And he wouldn’t be stuck with the cold fear of abandonment, of Neil being gone, vanished, never having existed.

It’s all idiotic, he knows. It’s just that Neil was too good to be true, and Andrew has history of losing such things.

On Friday, Coach pulls him at half-time, not allowing him back on the court for the rest of the game. Figures. Andrew hadn’t really noticed there was a game going on at all.

In their hotel room, Andrew stays awake, wondering what Neil is doing, and with who, if there is a who, and if he’s thinking about Andrew, and what he’s wearing, and if he misses Andrew, and just like his kisses with Neil, his thoughts have no rhyme or reason, either. He is a mess. Neil came along and obliterated meaning.

Andrew is still awake when Coach knocks loudly on their door to wake them up the next morning, yelling about the shuttle leaving in ten minutes with or without them. Andrew is the first one seated, and it’s not until they’re on the plane that he closes his eyes and shuts down.

Having lost their game against Houston, Kevin stubbornly refuses to leave campus on Saturday, camping out in the stadium until the early hours of Sunday.

Doesn’t matter. Andrew numbed himself hours ago; that way he doesn’t feel the hauntings of ever having had feelings.

The next week drags on, much like the past week had. As soon as practice lets out on Friday, Andrew shoves his gear into his locker to deal with later, showers and dresses before knocking on the stalls of his family, demanding they hurry up and get in the damn car.

Eden’s is just opening for the night when they arrive, the lineup small and the dance floor empty. They quickly claim a table, with Aaron and Nicky going up to the bar to fetch their drinks, while Andrew sits and waits.

He waits, and waits, until their first round is done and Kevin is asking for another. Not trusting the idiot to not spill their tray or lose his way back to the table, Andrew orders Kevin to stay put while he goes back to the bar for more.

While he waits for Roland’s attention, he scans the ever-increasing crowd, looking for any sign of auburn hair and bright eyes.

“Missed you last week,” Roland says when he finally makes his way over to Andrew. “So did Neil.”

Andrew guards himself carefully as he says his next words; “What’d he say?”

“Nothing, at least not to me. Not to anyone, really. But he did leave early, I guess after realizing you were a no-show.”

“Had an away game,” Andrew says as he takes the free shot Roland sets out for him. “Have you seen him tonight?”

Roland laughs. “If I had seen him, you would have seen him.”

Andrew sighs, then taps the counter in front of him, signalling an end to their conversation and a start on the drinks. Roland laughs before turning back to work, soon handing Andrew their usual tray.

But Andrew doesn’t even drink, not craving the taste and burn of it. He only wants one thing, and he longs for it.

By the third hour, Andrew waits with his chin on his folded arms, eyelids heavy from exhaustion, his chest heavy with disappointment.

On the last hour, Andrew nearly gives up. It’s stupid to be waiting for someone who might never show, just as it was stupid to want someone who might not exist. He stands to grab their tray and returns it to the bar, pulls out his pack of smokes from his back pocket and turns for the entrance -

Only to be stopped by Neil right in front of him.

“Neil,” Andrew says, unable to not say it, his hands going loose around his cigarette pack.

“Hi,” Neil says, his voice pitched low and quiet. “Going somewhere?”

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

Andrew pockets his smokes again, and allows his hands to take up their usual space against Neil’s hips. He backs him up to the nearest wall, not caring that they can still be seen, that they aren’t safe, and leans against Neil the way he’s wanted to for the past two weeks.

“You weren’t here last week,” Neil says weakly, playing with the zipper of Andrew’s jacket.

“Had a game,” Andrew answers, leaning even closer, until they’re nose to nose. “Almost didn’t think you’d show tonight.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Neil shrugs one small shoulder, and Andrew wonders if he’s imagining the sadness in Neil’s smile. “Didn’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here again.”

“Well, I am.”

“I know,” Neil says, using his free hand to play with the hair at the back of Andrew’s head. “So am I.”

Andrew doesn’t ask, doesn’t breathe; he leans in and takes Neil’s mouth as his, kissing him hard enough to make two weeks worth it.

Neil goes immediately pliant against Andrew’s body, both of his hands now folded in Andrew’s hair.

It’s a kiss that never ends, for whenever the other tries to part, one only holds on tighter. They wince and whimper whenever their lips disconnect from their kiss, pull each other closer everywhere when they start to drift.

Only when someone whistles at them that Andrew remembers where they are, and exactly where he doesn’t want to be. He pulls Neil close by the collar of his shirt, holding him against him, as he glares at whoever it was that bothered them.

“Come on,” he finally decides, and takes Neil’s hand in his. They don’t go past the bar and the bathrooms and the kitchen this time, but instead straight out into the cool night. Neil doesn’t ask any questions, only holds onto Andrew’s hand a little tighter as he follows him down the sidewalk and towards the parkade.

Andrew tips the bouncer there before leading Neil to his car. The others can wait or find another way home. Andrew only cares about one thing and one person - anyone else is shit out of luck.

He opens the back seat door for Neil, who hesitantly crawls in. He surveys the car with a careful yet curious glance, looking over the intricate details of the dash, the leather of the seats, before focusing back on Andrew.

It’s only slightly cramped in the back seat, but worlds better than being out in the open with everyone. They find each other easily again, with Andrew leaning against the door, legs spread and raised up on the seat, with Neil settled on his lap.

Andrew’s hands roam the expanse of Neil’s shoulders and back, moving between his shirt and skin. He feels every twitch, every shudder, can even feel his heartbeat

It’s a task, getting Neil’s jeans undone and off within the confines of the car, but they manage, and soon Neil is naked on top of him, and he’s everything Andrew thought he’d be, for Neil is everything.

What’s even more difficult is pulling his own pants down, just enough to - and he isn’t sure what they’re doing, but they need to do it, now. Neil seems to agree, judging by his now-low moans, the nip of his teeth after every kiss, urgent and heated and bleeding.

“I don’t have a condom,” Andrew admits, rather dully, feeling nearly ashamed for even suggesting that.

Neil shakes his head as he works a hickey against Andrew’s collarbone. He says nothing at first, only reaching between their bodies and grabbing hold of Andrew’s cock, his touch light as he guides Andrew where he wants him; against him.

“Like this?”

“F-fuck,” Andrew groans, feeling outside of himself.

His cock is pushed against Neil’s, the feeling so inexplicably foreign yet right, like having someone walk right into your home, not needing a key or knock or question, having absolute permission.

And then Neil spits into his hand and reaches down again, coating the head of Andrew’s cock while smearing it against his own, and suddenly it’s perfect, and Andrew is cursing for other reasons now, his head tilting back and hitting glass.

The car feels hotter than the inside of the club, even more crowded than the crowds had been, suffocating and small, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere else they’d want to be, and that sets Andrew’s blood on fire. You can’t disappear here.

“Don’t do it again,” Neil whispers as they border on the edge of orgasm, both of them, whining and gasping and holding on from letting go as best they can. “O-okay?”

Andrew nods, not understanding what Neil’s saying, kissing him harshly as he tries to figure it out.

“What?”

“Last week,” Neil says, and his beautiful face clenches up tight as Andrew rocks against him. “Don’t leave.”

If Andrew were in the right state of mind, he would laugh.

Instead he says, or really, asks, “You too.”

Neil nods, as if answering, and places both hands on Andrew’s face as he kisses him again.

Suddenly this mess of pieces feels permanent. It all links together, Andrew’s hands on Neil’s skin and Neil’s mark on Andrew’s neck, with their bodies twisted so tightly that it should hurt.

It doesn’t.

Andrew comes after Neil comes, the spurts of come slicking their cocks even further, making Andrew push harder and faster for more, more, it feels so good, more -

Neil lays against Andrew’s chest, shuddering and breathing hard with every thrust, until Andrew feels the bleary, hot edges of a second orgasm cresting upon him. It’s an emotion more than an explosion, the arousal so sharp and hot low in his body, and then it’s gone, and all that’s left to feel is Neil around him.

Neil smiles at Andrew when it’s over, stroking back a lock of hair that had fallen into his face.

Andrew wants to smile back, and would, if he didn’t feel so weak.

Instead he holds onto Neil’s still-trembling form, keeping him grounded and keeping him here.

The fear is gone, Andrew realizes, and that’s why he feels so warm; for instead of running into a dark wall of hopelessness, he now runs into Neil.

And instead of disappearing, Neil runs right back.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, if you wanted to read more about Mr. Shakedown, you can do so here!! Thank you! Happy holidays <333
> 
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> [Read more on Tumblr about Mr. Shakedown's campaign ❤️](http://jostenminyard.tumblr.com/post/180990893806/click-here-to-support-mr-shakedowns-veterinary)


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